1180. The Turning Point

Charles Spurgeon discusses the turning point when a sinner comes to God.

A Sermon Delivered On Sunday Morning, August 23,
1874, By C. H. Spurgeon, At The Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
*2/6/2012

And he arose, and came to his father.[Lu 15:20]

For other sermons on this text:[See Spurgeon_SermonTexts "Lu 15:20"]

1.
This sentence expresses the true turning point in the prodigal’s life
story. Many other matters led up to it, and before he came to it
there was much in him that was very hopeful; but this was the point
itself, and had he never reached it he would have remained a
prodigal, but would never have been the restored prodigal, and his
life would have been a warning rather than an instruction for us. “He
arose, and came to his father.” Speaking, as I do, in extreme
weakness, I have no words to spare; and while my voice holds out I
shall speak straight to the point, and I pray the Lord to make every
syllable practical and powerful by his Holy Spirit.

2.I. We shall begin by noticing that HERE WAS ACTION — “He arose,
and came to his father.”

3.
He had already been in a state of thoughtfulness; he had come to
himself, but now he was to go further, and come to his father. He had
considered the past, and weighed it up, and had seen the hollowness
of all the world’s pleasures; he had seen his condition in reference
to his father, and his prospects if he remained in the far off
country; he had thought upon what he ought to do, and what would be
the probable result of such a course; but now he passed beyond the
dreaminess of thought into actual acting and doing. How long will it
be, dear hearers, before you will do the same? We are glad to have
you thoughtful; we hope that a great point is gained when you are led
to consider your ways, to ponder your condition, and to look
earnestly into the future, for thoughtlessness is the ruin of many a
traveller to eternity, and by its means the unwary fall into the deep
pit of carnal security and perish in it. But some of you have been
among the “thoughtful” quite long enough; it is time you passed into
a more practical stage. It is high time that you came to action; it
would have been better if you had acted already; for, in the matter
of reconciliation to God, first thoughts are best. When a man’s life
hangs on a thread, and hell is just before him, his path is clear,
and a second thought is superfluous. The first impulse to escape from
danger and lay hold on Christ is what you would be wise to follow.
Some of you whom I now address have been thinking, and thinking, and
thinking, until I fear that you will think yourselves into perdition.
May you, by divine grace, be turned from thinking to believing, or
else your thoughts will become the undying worm of your torment.

4.
The prodigal had also passed beyond mere regret. He was deeply
grieved that he had left his father’s house, he lamented his lavish
expenditure upon lewdness and rebelling, he mourned that the son of
such a father should be degraded into a herder of swine in a foreign
land; but he now proceeded from regret to repentance, and bestirred
himself to escape from the condition over which he mourned. What is
the use of regret if we continue in sin? By all means pull up the
sluices of your grief if the floods will turn the wheel of action,
but you may as well reserve your tears, if they mean no more than
idle sentimentalism. Of what value is it for a man to say he repents
of his misconduct if he still perseveres in it? We are glad when
sinners regret their sin and mourn the condition into which sin has
brought them, but if they go no further, their regrets will only
prepare them for eternal remorse. Had the prodigal become inactive
through despondency, or stolid through sullen grief, he must have
perished, far away from his father’s home, as it is to be feared many
will whose sorrow for sin leads them into a proud unbelief and wilful
despair of God’s love; but he was wise, for he shook off the
drowsiness of his despondency, and, with resolute determination,
“arose and came to his father.” Oh, when will you sad ones be wise
enough to do the same? When will your thinking and your sorrowing
give place to practical obedience to the gospel?

5.
The prodigal also pressed beyond mere resolving. That is a sweet
verse which says, “I will arise,” but that is far better which says,
“And he arose.” Resolves are good, like blossoms, but actions are
better, for they are the fruits. We are glad to hear from you the
resolution, “I will turn to God,” but holy angels in heaven do not
rejoice over resolutions, they reserve their music for sinners who
actually repent. Many of you like the son in the parable have said,
“I go, sir,” but you have not gone. You are as good at forgetting as
you are at resolving. Every earnest sermon, every death in your
family, every funeral knell for a neighbour, every pricking of
conscience, every touch of sickness, sets you resolving to amend, but
your promissory notes are never honoured, your repentance ends in
words. Your goodness is as the dew, which at early dawn hangs each
blade of grass with gems, but leaves the fields all parched and dry
when the sun’s burning heat is poured upon the pasture. You mock your
friends, and trifle with your own souls. You have often in this house
said, “Let me reach my room and I will fall upon my knees,” but on
the way home you have forgotten what manner of men you were, and sin
has confirmed its tottering throne. Have you not dallied long enough?
Have you not lied to God sufficiently? Should you not now stop
resolving and proceed to the solemn business of your souls like men
of common sense? You are in a sinking vessel, and the lifeboat is
near, but your mere resolve to enter it will not prevent your going
down with the sinking craft; as sure as you are a living man, you
will drown unless you take the actual leap for life.

6.
“He arose and came to his father.” Now, observe that this action of
the prodigal was immediate, and without further consideration. He
did not go back to the citizen of that country and say, “Will you
raise my wages? If not, I must leave.” Had he discussed terms he
would have been lost; but he gave his old master no notice, he
cancelled his indentures by running away. I wish that sinners here
would break their league with death, and violate their covenant with
hell, by escaping for their lives to Jesus, who receives all such
runaways. We need neither leave [permission] nor licence for quitting
the service of sin and Satan, neither is it a subject which demands a
month’s consideration: in this matter instantaneous action is the
surest wisdom. Lot did not stop to consult the king of Sodom
concerning whether he might leave his dominions, neither did he
consult the parish officers concerning the propriety of speedily
deserting his home; but with the angel’s hand pressing them, he and
his family fled from the city. Indeed, one did not flee; she looked
and lingered, and that lingering cost her her life! That pillar of
salt is the eloquent warning to us to avoid delays when we are asked
to flee for our lives. Sinner, do you wish to be a pillar of salt?
Will you halt between two opinions, until God’s anger shall doom you
to final impenitence? Will you trifle with mercy until justice
strikes you? Up, man, and while your day of grace continues, flee
into the arms of love.

7.
The text implies that the prodigal aroused himself, and exerted
all his energies. It is said, “he arose”; the word suggests that
he had until then been asleep upon the bed of sloth, or the couch of
presumption. Like Samson in Delilah’s lap, he had been indolent,
inactive, and unstrung, but now, startled from his lethargy, he lifts
up his eyes, he girds up his loins, he shakes off the spell which had
enthralled him, he exerts every power, he arouses his whole nature,
and he spares no effort until he returns to his father.

8.
Men are not saved between sleeping and waking. “The kingdom of heaven
suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.” Grace does not
stupefy us, but it arouses us. Surely, sirs, it is worth while
making a concerted effort to escape from eternal wrath. It is worth
while summoning up every faculty and power and emotion and passion of
your being, and saying to yourself, “I cannot be lost; I will not be
lost: I am resolved that I will find mercy through Jesus Christ.” The
worst of it is, oh sinners, you are so sluggish, so indifferent, so
ready to let things happen as they may. Sin has bewitched and
benumbed you. You sleep as on beds of down and forget that you are in
danger of hell fire. You cry, “A little more rest, and a little more
slumber, and a little more folding of the arms to sleep,” and so you
sleep on, though your damnation does not slumber. Oh that you could
be awakened. It is not in the power of my voice to arouse you; but
may the Lord himself alarm you, for men were never more in danger.
Only let your breath fail, or your blood pause, and you are lost for
ever. More frail than a cobweb is that life on which your eternal
destiny depends. If you were wise you would not give sleep to your
eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids, until you had found your God and
been forgiven. Oh, when will you do something? How long will it be
before you believe in Jesus? How long will you sport between the jaws
of hell? How long will you dare to provoke the living God?

9.II. Secondly, HERE WAS A SOUL COMING INTO ACTUAL CONTACT WITH
GOD, — “he arose and came to his father.”

10.
It would have been of no avail for him to have arisen if he had not
come to his father. This is what the sinner has to do, and what the
Spirit enables him to do: namely, to come immediately to his God.
But, alas! very commonly, when men begin to be anxious, they go all
around and hurry to some friend to tell him about it, or they even
resort to a deceitful priest, and seek help from him. They flee to a
saint or a virgin, and ask these to be mediators for then, instead of
accepting the only Mediator Jesus Christ, and going to God at once by
him. They flee to outward forms and ceremonies, or they turn to their
Bibles, their prayers, their repentances, or their sermon hearings;
in fact, to anything rather than their God. But the prodigal knew
better; he went to his father, and it will be a grand day for you, oh
sinner, when you do the same. Go immediately to your God in Christ
Jesus. “Come here,” says the priest. Pass that fellow by. Get away to
your Father. Reject an angel from heaven if he would detain you from
the Lord. Go personally, directly, and at once to God in Christ
Jesus. But surely I must perform some ceremony first? The prodigal
did not do that, he arose and went at once to his father. Sinner, you
must come to God, and Jesus is the way. Go to him then, tell him you
have done wrong, confess your sins to him, and yield yourself to him.
Cry, “Father, I have sinned: forgive me, for Jesus’ sake.”

11.
Alas! there are many anxious souls who do not go to others, but they
look to themselves. They sit down and cry, “I want to repent; I want
to feel my need; I want to be humble.” Oh man, get up! What are you
doing? Leave yourself and go to your Father. “Oh, but I have so
little hope; my faith is very weak, and I am full of fears.” What do
your hopes or your fears matter while you are away from your Father?
Your salvation does not lie within yourself, but in the Lord’s good
will towards you. You will never be at peace until, leaving all your
doubts and your hopes, you come to your God and rest in his bosom.
“Oh, but I want to conquer my propensities to sin, I want to master
my strong temptations.” I know what it is you want. You want the best
robe without your Father’s giving it to you, and shoes on your feet
of your own procuring; you do not like going in a beggar’s suit and
receiving all from the Lord’s loving hand; but this pride of yours
must be given up, and you must go away to God, or perish for ever.
You must forget yourself, or only remember yourself in order to feel
that you are bad throughout, and no more worthy to be called God’s
son. Give yourself up as a sinking vessel that is not worth pumping,
but must be left to go down, and get into the lifeboat of free grace.
Think of God your Father — of him, I say, and of his dear Son, the one
Mediator and Redeemer of the sons of men. There is your hope — to flee
away from self and to reach your Father.

12.
Do I hear you say, “Well, I shall continue in the means of grace, and
I hope to find my God there.” I tell you, if you do that, and refuse
to go to God, the means of grace will be the means of damnation for
you. “I must wait at the pool,” one says. Then I solemnly warn you
that you will lie there and die; for Jesus does not command you to
lie there, his invitation is, “Take up your bed, and walk.” “Believe
in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved.” You have to go to
your Father, and not to the pool of Bethesda, or any other pool of
ordinances or means of grace. “But I intend to pray,” one says. What
would you pray for? Can you expect the Lord to hear you while you
will not hear him? You will pray best with your head in your Father’s
bosom, but the prayers of an unyielding, disobedient, unbelieving
heart are mockeries. Prayers themselves will ruin you if they are
made a substitute for going at once to God. Suppose the prodigal
had sat down at the swine trough and said, “I will pray here,” what
would it have availed him? or suppose he had wept there, what good
would have come of it? Praying and weeping were good enough when he
had come to his father, but they could not have been substituted for
it. Sinner, your business is with God. Hurry to him at once. You have
nothing to do with yourself, or your own doings, or what others can
do for you, the turning point of salvation is, “he arose and came to
his father.” There must be a real, living, earnest, contact of your
poor guilty soul with God, a recognition that there is a God, and
that God can be spoken to, and an actual speech of your soul to him,
through Jesus Christ, for it is only God in Christ Jesus that is
accessible at all. Going like this to God, we tell him that we are
all wrong, and want to be set right; we tell him we wish to be
reconciled to him, and are ashamed that we should have sinned against
him; we then put our trust in his Son, and we are saved. Oh soul, go
to God: it does not matter though the prayer you come with may be a
very broken prayer, or even if it has mistakes in it, as the
prodigal’s prayer had when he said, “Make me as one of your hired
servants”; the language of the prayer will not matter as long as you
really approach to God. “Him who comes to me,” says Jesus, “I will in
no wise cast out”; and Jesus ever lives to make intercession for
those who come to God through him.

13.
Here, then, is the great Protestant doctrine. The Romish doctrine
says you must go around by the back door, and half-a-dozen of the
Lord’s servants must knock for you, and even then you may never be
heard; but the grand old Protestant doctrine is, come to God
yourself; come with no other mediator than Jesus Christ; come just as
you are without merits and good works; trust in Jesus and your sins
will be forgiven you.

14.
There is my second point: there was action, and that action was
contact with God.

15.III. Now, thirdly, IN THAT ACTION THERE WAS AN ENTIRE YIELDING UP
OF HIMSELF.

16.
In the prodigal’s case, his proud independence and self-will were
gone. In other days he demanded his portion, and resolved to spend it
as he pleased, but now he is willing to be as much under rule as a
hired servant, he has had enough of being his own master, and is
weary of the distance from God which self-will always creates. He
longs to get into a child’s true place, namely, that of dependence
and loving submission. The great mischief of all was his distance
from his father, and he now feels it to be so. His great thought is
to remove that distance by humbly returning, for then he feels that
all other problems will come to an end. He yields up his cherished
freedom, his boasted independence, his liberty to think and do and
say whatever he chose, and he longs to come under loving rule and
wise guidance. Sinner, are you ready for this? If so, come and
welcome; your Father longs to press you to his bosom!

17.
He gave up all idea of self-justification, for he said, “I have
sinned.” Before he would have said, “I have a right to do as I
like with my own; who is to dictate how I shall spend my own money?
If I do sow a few wild oats, every young man does the same. I have
been very generous, if nothing else; no one can call me greedy. I am
no hypocrite. Look at your pious Methodists, how they deceive people!
There’s nothing of that in me, I will warrant you; I am an outspoken
man of the world; and after all, a good deal better in disposition
than my older brother, fine fellow though he pretends to be.” But now
the prodigal boasts no longer. Not a syllable of self-praise falls
from his lips; he mournfully confesses, “I have sinned against heaven
and before you.” Sinner, if you wish to be saved you also must come
down from your high places, and acknowledge your iniquity. Confess
that you have done wrong, and do not try to extenuate your offence;
do not offer apologies and make your case better than it is, but
humbly plead guilty and leave your soul in Jesus’ hands. Of two
things, to sin or to deny the sin, probably to deny the sin is the
worse of the two, and shows a blacker heart. Acknowledge your fault,
man, and tell your heavenly Father that if it were not for his mercy
you would have been in hell, and that as it is you richly deserve to
be there even now. Make your case rather blacker than it is if you
can; this I say because I know you cannot do any such thing. When a
man is in the hospital it cannot be of any help to him to pretend to
be better than he is; he will not receive any more medical attention
on that account, but rather the other way, for the worse his case the
more likely is the physician to give him special notice. Oh, sinner,
lay bear before God your sores, your putrifying sores of sin, the
horrid ulcers of your deep depravity, and cry, “Oh Lord, have mercy
upon me!” This is the way of wisdom. Be finished with pride and
self-righteousness, and make your appeal to the undeserved pity of
the Lord, and you will succeed.

18.
Observe that the prodigal yielded up himself so thoroughly that he
acknowledged his father’s love to him to be an aggravation of his
guilt: so I take it that is what he means when he says, “Father, I
have sinned.” It adds an emphasis to the “I have sinned” when it
follows after the word “father.” “Oh good God, I have broken your
good laws; you loving, tender, merciful God, I have done wrong
wantonly and wickedly against you. You have been a very loving Father
to me, and I have been a most ungenerous and shameless traitor to
you, rebelling without cause. I confess this frankly and humbly, and
with many tears. Ah! had you been a tyrant I might have had some
excuse for apology from your severity, but you have been a Father,
and this makes it worse that I should sin against you.” It is sweet
to hear such a confession as this poured out into the Father’s heart.

19.
The penitent also yielded up all his supposed rights and claims upon
his father, saying, “I am not worthy to be called your son.” He might
have said, “I have sinned, but still I am your child,” and most of us
would have thought it a very justifiable argument; but he does not
say so, he is too humble for that, he admits, “I am no more worthy to
be called your son.” A sinner is really broken down when he
acknowledges that if God would have no mercy on him, but cast him
away for ever, it would be no more than justice.

Should sudden vengeance seize my breath,
I must pronounce thee just in death;
And, if my soul were sent to hell,
Thy righteous law approves it well.

That soul is not far from peace which has ceased arguing and submits
to the sentence. Oh, sinner, I urge you, if you wish to find speedy
rest, go and throw yourself at the foot of the cross where God meets
such as you are, and say, “Lord, here I am; do what you wish with me.
I will offer not a word of excuse, nor one single plea by way of
extenuation. I am a mass of guilt and misery, but pity me, oh, pity
me! I have no rights or claims; I have forfeited the rights of
creatureship by becoming a rebel against you. I am lost and utterly
undone before the bar of your justice. I flee from that justice and
hide myself in the wounds of your Son. According to the multitude of
your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions!”

20.
Once again, here was such a yielding up of himself to his father that
no terms or conditions are mentioned or implied. He begs to be
received, but a servant’s place is good enough for him; he is content
to take his place among the scullions of the kitchen, as long as he
may be forgiven. He does not ask for a little liberty to sin, or
stipulate for a little self-righteousness in which he may boast; he
gives it all up. He is willing to be anything or nothing, just as his
father pleases, so that he may only be numbered with his household.
No weapons of rebellion are in his hands now. No secret opposition to
his father’s rule lingers in his soul, he is completely subdued, and
lies at his father’s feet. Our Lord never crushed a soul yet that lay
prostrate at his feet, and he never will. He will stoop down and say,
“Rise, my child; rise, for I have forgiven you. Go and sin no more. I
have loved you with an everlasting love.” Come and let us return to
the Lord, for he has torn, and he will heal us; he has struck, and he
will bind us up. He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the
smoking flax.

21.IV. Notice further, and fourthly, that IN THIS ACT THERE WAS A
MEASURE OF FAITH IN HIS FATHER — a measure, I say, meaning by it not
much faith, but some.

22.
A little faith saves the soul. There was faith in his father’s power.
He said, “In my father’s house there is food enough and to spare.”
Sinner, do you not believe that God is able to save you; that through
Jesus Christ he is able to supply your soul’s needs. Can you not get
as far as this, “Lord, if you will you can make me clean.” The
prodigal had also some faith in his father’s readiness to pardon; for
if he had not so hoped, he would never have returned to his father at
all: if he had been sure that his father would never smile upon him
he would never have returned to him. Sinner, do believe that God is
merciful, for so he is. Believe, through Jesus Christ, that he does
not wish the death of the sinner, but would rather that he should
turn to him and live; for as surely as God lives this is truth, and
do not believe a lie concerning your God. The Lord is not hard or
harsh, but he rejoices to pardon great transgressions. The prodigal
also believed in his fathers readiness to bless him. He felt sure
that his father would go as far as propriety would permit, for he
said, “I am not worthy to be called your son, but make me at least
your servant.” In this also he admitted that his father was so good,
that even to be his servant would be a great matter. He was contented
even to get the lowest place, as long as he might be under the shadow
of so good a protector.

23.
Ah, poor sinner, do you not believe that God will have mercy on you
if he can do so consistently with his justice? If you believe that, I
have good news to tell you. Jesus Christ, his Son, has offered such
an atonement, that God can be just, and yet the justifier of him who
believes, he has mercy upon the vilest, and justifies the ungodly,
and accepts the very chief of sinners through his dear Son. Oh, soul,
have faith in the atonement. The atonement made by the personal
sacrifice of the Son of God must be infinitely precious; believe that
there is efficacy enough in it for you. It is your safety to flee to
that atonement and cling to the cross of Christ, and you will honour
God by so doing; is the only way in which you can honour him. You can
honour him by believing that he can save you, even you. The truest
faith is what believes in the mercy of God in the teeth of conscious
unworthiness. The penitent in the parable went to his father too
unworthy to be called his son, and yet he said, “My father.” Faith
has a way of seeing the blackness of sin, and yet believing that God
can make the soul as white as snow. It is not faith that says, “I am
a little sinner, and therefore God can forgive me”; but that is faith
which cries, “I am a great sinner, an accursed and condemned sinner,
and yet, for all that, God’s infinite mercy can forgive me, and the
blood of Christ can make me clean.” Believe in the teeth of your
feelings, and in spite of your conscience; believe in God, though
everything within you seems to say, “He cannot save you; he will not
save you.” Believe in God, sinner, over the tops of mountain sins. Do
as John Bunyan says he did, for he was so afraid of his sins and of
their punishment, that he could only run into God’s arms, and he
said, “Though he had held a drawn sword in his hands, I would have
run on the very point of it, rather than have kept away from him.” Do
the same, poor sinner. Believe your God. Believe in nothing else, but
trust your God, and you will get the blessing. It is wonderful the
power of faith over God, it binds his justice and constrains his
grace. I do not know how to illustrate it better than by a little
story. When I walked down my garden some time ago I found a dog
amusing himself among the flowers. I knew that he was not a good
gardener, and no dog of mine, so I threw a stick at him and told him
to get out. After I had done so, he conquered me, and made me ashamed
of having spoken roughly to him, for he picked up my stick, and,
wagging his tail very pleasantly, he brought the stick to me, and
dropped it at my feet. Do you think I could strike him or drive him
away after that? No, I patted him and called him good names. The dog
had conquered the man. And if you, poor sinner, dog as you are, can
have confidence enough in God to come to him just as you are, it is
not in his heart to spurn you. There is an omnipotence in simple
faith which will conquer even the divine Being himself. Only trust
him as he reveals himself in Jesus, and you shall find salvation.

24.V. I do not have time or strength to dwell longer here, and so I
must notice, fifthly, that THIS ACT OF COMING INTO CONTACT WITH GOD
IS PERFORMED BY THE SINNER JUST AS HE IS.

25.
I do not know how wretched the prodigal’s appearance may have been,
but I will be bound to say he had grown none the sweeter by having
fed swine, nor do I suppose his garments had been very sumptuously
embroidered by gathering husks for them from the trees. Yet, just as
he was, he came. Surely he might have spent an hour profitably in
cleansing his flesh and his clothes. But no, he said, “I will arise,”
and no sooner said than done! he did arise, and he came to his
father. Every moment that a sinner stays away from God in order to
get better he is only adding to his sin, for the most radical sin of
all is his being away from God and the longer he stays in it the more
he sins. The attempt to perform good works apart from God is like the
effort of a thief to arrange his stolen goods in order, his sole duty
is to return them at once. The very same pride which leads men away
from God may be seen in their self-conceited notion that they can
improve themselves while they still refuse to return to him. The
essence of their fault is that they are far off from God, and
whatever they do, as long as that distance remains, nothing is
effectively done. I say the root of the whole matter is distance from
God, and therefore the commencement of setting matters right lies in
arising and returning to him from whom they have departed.

26.
The prodigal was bound to go home just as he was, for there was
nothing that he could do. He was reduced to such extremities that he
could not purchase a fresh piece of cloth to mend his garments, nor a
farthing’s worth of soap with which to cleanse his flesh; and it is a
great mercy when a man is so spiritually reduced that he cannot do
anything except go to his God as a beggar, when he is so bankrupt
that he cannot pay a farthing in the pound, when he is so lost that
he cannot even repent or believe apart from God, but feels that he is
undone for ever unless the Lord shall interpose. It is our wisdom to
go to God for everything.

27.
Moreover, there was nothing needed from the prodigal except to return
to his father. When a child who has done wrong comes back, the more
his face is blurred with tears the better. When a beggar ask for
charity, the more his clothes are in rags the better. Are not rags
and sores the very badge of beggars? I once gave a man a pair of
shoes because he said he was in need of them; but after he had put
them on and gone a little way I overtook him in a gateway taking them
off in order to go barefoot again. I think they were patent leather,
and what should a beggar do in such attire? He was changing them for
“old and clouted shoes,” those were suitable for his business. A
sinner is never so well arrayed for pleading as when he comes in
rags. At his worst, the sinner, for making an appeal to mercy, is at
his best. And so, sinners, there is no need for you to linger; come
just as you are. “But must we not wait for the Holy Spirit?” Ah,
beloved, he who is willing to arise and go to his Father has the Holy
Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit who moves us to return to God, and it
is spirit of the flesh or of the devil that would have us wait.

28.
What now, sinners? Some of you are sitting in those pews, where are
you? I cannot find you, but my Master can, he has made this sermon on
purpose for you. “Well, but I would like to get home and pray.” Pray
where you are, in the pew. “But I cannot speak out aloud.” You may if
you like, I will not stop you. “But I should not like to.” Well, do
not, then. God can hear you without a sound, though I wish sometimes
we did hear people cry out, “What must I do to be saved?” I would
gladly hear the prayer, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” But if men
cannot hear you, the Lord can hear the cries of their hearts. Now,
just sit still for a minute, and say, “My God I must come to you. You
are in Jesus Christ, and in him you have already come a great way to
meet me. My soul needs you; take me now, and make me what I ought to
be. Forgive me, and accept me.” It is the turning point of a man’s
life when that is done, wherever it is, whether in a workshop, or in
a saw pit, in a church, or in a tabernacle; it does not matter where.
That is the point — the going to God in Christ, giving everything up,
and by faith resting in the mercy of God.

29.VI. The last point of all is this — THAT ACT ACCOMPLISHED THE
GREATEST CONCEIVABLE CHANGE IN THE MAN.

30.
He was a new man after that. Prostitutes, winebibbers, you have lost
your old companion now! He has gone to his Father, and his Father’s
company and yours will never agree. A man’s return to his God means
his leaving the haunts of vice and the tables of riot. You may depend
upon it whenever you hear of a professing Christian living in
uncleanness, he has not been living anywhere near his God. He may
have talked a great deal about it, but God and unchastity never
agree; if you have friendship with God you will have no fellowship
with the unfruitful works of darkness.

31.
Now, too, the penitent abandons all degrading works to support
himself. You will not find him feeding swine any more, or making a
swine of himself either by trusting in priests or sacraments. He will
not confess to a priest again, or pay a penny to get his mother out
of purgatory; he is not such a fool as that any more. He has been to
his God on his own account, and he does not need any of these
shavelling priests to go to God for him. He has freed from that
bondage. No more pig feeding; no more superstition for him! “Why,” he
says, “I have access with boldness to the mercy seat, and what have I
to do with the priests of Rome?”

32.
There is a change in him in all his ways. Now that he has come to his
father his pride is broken down. He no longer glories in what he
calls his own; all his glory is in his father’s free pardoning love.
He never boasts of what he has, for he admits that he has nothing
except what his father gives him; and although he is far better off
than he ever was in his spendthrift days, yet he is as unassuming as
a little child. He is a gentleman commoner upon the bounty of his
God, and lives from day to day by a royal grant from the table of the
King of kings. Pride is gone, but contentment fills its place. He
would have been contented to be one of the servants of the house, he
is much more satisfied to be a child. He loves his father with a new
love; he cannot even mention his name without saying, “And he forgave
me, he forgave me freely, he forgave me all, and he said, ‘Bring out
the best robe and put it on him; put a ring on his hand and shoes on
his feet.’ ” From the day of his restoration the prodigal is bound to
his Father’s home, and considers it to be one of his greatest
blessings that it is written in the covenant of grace, “I will put my
fear in their hearts, so that they shall not depart from me.”

33.
This morning I believe that God in his mercy intends to call many
sinners to himself. I am often very much surprised to find how the
Lord guides my word according to the people before me. Last Sunday
there came here a young son of a gentleman, a foreigner, from a
distant land, under considerable impressions concerning the truth of
the Christian religion. His father is a follower of one of the
ancient religions of the East, and this young gentleman naturally
felt it to be a great difficulty that he would probably make his
father angry if he became a Christian. Judge, then, how closely the
message of last Sunday came home to him, when the text was, “What if
your father answers you roughly?” He came to tell me that he thanked
God for that message, and he hoped to bear up under the trial, should
persecution arise. I feel that I am with equal plainness speaking to
some of you. I know I am. You are saying, “May I now go to God just
as I am, and through Jesus Christ yield myself up; and will he
forgive me?” Dear brother, or dear sister, wherever you may be, try
it. That is the best thing to do; try it; and, if the angels do
not start the bells in heaven ringing, God has altered from what he
was last week, for I know he received poor sinners then, and he will
receive them now. The worst thing I dread about you is, lest you
should say, “I will think about it.” Do not think about it. Do
it! No more thinking is needed concerning this; but just to do it.
Go away to God. Is it not according to nature that the creature
should be at peace with its Creator? Is it not according to your
conscience? Is there not something within you which cries, “Go to God
in Christ Jesus.” In the case of that poor prodigal, the famine said
to him, “Go home!” Bread was dear, meat was scarce, he was hungry,
and every pang of poverty said, “Go home! Go home!” When he went to
his old friend the citizen, and he asked him for help, his scowling
looks said, “Why do you not go home?” There is a time with sinners
when even their old companions seem to say, “We do not want you. You
are too miserable and melancholy. Why do you not go home?” They sent
him to feed swine, and the very hogs grunted, “Go home!” When he
picked up those carob [a] husks and tried to eat them, they crackled,
“Go home.” He looked upon his rags, and they gaped at him, “Go
home.” His hungry belly and his faintness cried “Go home.” Then
he thought of his father’s face, and how kindly it had looked at him,
and it seemed to say, “Come home!” He remembered the food enough and
to spare, and every morsel seemed to say, “Come home!” He pictured
the servants sitting down to dinner and feasting to the full, and
every one of them seemed be looking right away over the wilderness to
him and to say, “Come home! Your father feeds us well. Come home!”
Everything said, “Come home!” Only the devil whispered, “Never go
back. Fight it out! Better starve than yield! Die game!” [b] But then
he had gotten away from the devil this once, for he had come to
himself, and he said, “No; I will arise and go to my father.” Oh that
you would be equally wise. Sinner, what is the use of being damned
for the sake of a little pride. Yield, man! Down with your pride! You
will not find it so hard to submit if you remember that dear Father
who loved us and gave himself for us in the person of his own dear
Son. You will find it is sweet to yield to such a friend. And when
you lay your head on his heart, and feel his warm kisses on your
cheek, you will soon feel that it is sweet to weep for sin — sweet to
confess your wrong doing, and sweeter still to hear him say, “I have
blotted out your sins like a cloud, and like a thick cloud your
transgressions.” “Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be as
white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as
wool.”

34.
May God Almighty grant this may be the case with hundreds of you this
morning. He shall have all of the glory, but my heart shall be very
glad, for I feel nothing of the spirit of the older brother within
me, but the greatest conceivable joy at the thought of making merry
with you by and by, when you come to remember my Lord and Master, and
we sit together at the sacramental feast, rejoicing in his love. May
God bless you, for his sake. Amen.

[a]Carob: The fruit of an evergreen leguminous tree, Carob
tree, a native of the Levant: a long flat horn-like pod
containing numerous hard seeds embedded in pulp. OED.[b]Die Game: A game of chance using a single dice. See
Explorer "http://acm.uva.es/p/v104/10409.html"

Spirit of the PsalmsPsalm 136(Song 1)<7s.>1 Let us, with a gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind:
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
2 Let us sound his name abroad,
For of gods he is the God:
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
3 He, with all commanding might,
Fill’d the new made world with light;
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
4 All things living he doth feed;
His full hand supplies their need:
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
5 He his chosen race did bless
In the wasteful wilderness:
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
6 He hath, with a piteous eye,
Look’d upon our misery:
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
7 Let us then, with gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind,
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.
John Milton, 1645

Psalm 136(Song 2)L.M.1 Give to our God immortal praise;
Mercy and truth are all his ways:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
2 Give to the Lord of lords renown,
The King of kings with glory crown;
His mercies ever shall endure,
When lords and kings are known no more.
3 He built the earth, he spread the sky,
And fix’d the starry lights on high:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
4 He fills the sun with morning light,
He bids the moon direct the night:
His mercies ever shall endure,
When suns and moons shall shine no more.
5 The Jews he freed from Pharaoh’s hand,
And brought them to the promised land:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
6 He saw the Gentiles dead in sin,
And felt his pity work within:
His mercies ever shall endure,
When death and sin shall reign no more.
7 He sent his Son with power to save
From guilt, and darkness, and the grave
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
8 Through this vain world he guides our feet,
And leads us to his heavenly seat;
His mercies ever shall endure,
When this vain world shall be no more.
Isaac Watts, 1719.

The Christian, Contrite Cries614 — Rest In Jesus1 Oh may I never rest
Till I find rest in thee,
Till of my pardon here possess’d
I feel thy love to me!
2 Turn not thy face away,
Thy look can made me clean;
Me in thy wedding robes array,
And cover all my sin.
3 Tell me, my God, for whom
Thy precious blood was shed;
For sinners? Lord, as such I come,
For such the Saviour bled.
4 Then raise a fallen wretch,
Display thy grace in me;
I am not our of mercy’s reach,
Nor too far gone for thee.
Augustus M. Toplady, 1759.

The Christian, Contrite Cries612 — Penitential Sighs<7s.>1 Father, at thy call I come!
In thy bosom there is room
For a guilty soul to hide
Press’d with grief on every side.
2 Here I’ll make my piteous moan;
Thou canst understand a groan!
Here my sins and sorrows tell,
What I feel thou knowest well.
3 Ah! how foolish I have been
To obey the voice of sin,
To forget thy love to me!
And to break my vows to thee.
4 Darkness fills my trembling soul;
Floods of sorrow o’er me roll;
Pity, Father, pity me;
All my hope’s alone in thee.
5 But may such a wretch as I,
Self-condemn’d and doom’d to die,
Ever hope to be forgiven,
And be smiled upon by Heaven?
6 May I round thee cling and twine,
Call myself a child of thine;
And presume to claim a part
In a tender Father’s heart?
7 Yes, I may; for I espy
Pity trickling from thine eye:
‘Tis a Father’s bowels move,
Move with pardon and with love.
8 Well I do remember too,
What his love hath deign’d to do;
How he sent a Saviour down,
All my follies to atone.
9 Has my elder Brother died?
And is justice satisfied?
Why — oh why — should I despair
Of my Father’s tender care?
Samuel Stennett, 1787.

Spurgeon Sermons

These sermons from Charles Spurgeon are a series that is for reference and not necessarily a position of Answers in Genesis. Spurgeon did not entirely agree with six days of creation and dives into subjects that are beyond the AiG focus (e.g., Calvinism vs. Arminianism, modes of baptism, and so on).